Chapter Eleven

Ella:

I awoke to bright lights. Blinding lights, burning at my retinas like the sun. I had bright lights like that in my childhood bedroom. For just a moment, I was fooled into thinking I was back home, safe and sound. The illusion was quickly pulled from me; I sensed a sharp pain on my side, my fingertips going to move over the area. Small, firm bumps protruded from my skin. Stitches.

I had been shot. The bullet had barely grazed my left side, enough to require medical treatment but not enough to warrant any worry about internal damage. Still hurts like a bitch.

I slowly pulled myself into a sitting position, my wound protesting fiercely. My heart sank when I realized where I was. I was back in that dreaded room. They had implemented small but detrimental changes: a large security camera in the upper corner of the room and a large bright light hanging from the ceiling, no doubt for the camera. My blood ran cold. We had one shot to get out of this hellhole, and we blew it. Bucky and I were going to be here forever, or until they killed us.

Bucky.

What had become of him? I was sure they were somewhere in this God-forsaken pit, scrambling his brain until he didn't even remember my name. Had they killed him? No, they couldn't have. If they had killed him, they would have no use for me anymore. They would have carried me out of here in a garbage bag instead of putting me back in this room.

As a matter of fact, why hadn't they killed me? They had taken two nurses before me; they had told me countless times that I was replaceable. They had even shot me, dragged me back into this room. They had the opportunity. I felt like I was sinking deep into frigid water as the thought occurred to me. They would only keep me alive to hurt Bucky; they had something planned, something awful.

As if on cue, the door creaked open. The door had been replaced, too, with a larger steel one with a thick, sturdy-looking lock. Rumlow came into the room, two of his goons flanking him. I expected his face to be bruised, his eyes black, his nose bloody. I would have expected Bucky to beat him to a pulp after I was shot. But Rumlow stood before me without as much as a single hair out of place.

"Where's Bucky?" I said. My answer was a swift slap to the face. Before I could react, Rumlow had his fist wrapped around the throat.

"Think you can ask me questions after what you pulled?" Rumlow said, his voice low and dangerous. I choked in response. "You're lucky you're even still alive. You have no idea how badly I want to put a bullet between your eyes."

His grip tightened, and I began to see stars. Rumlow's eyes bore into mine, full of malice. He truly wanted me dead, and Lord knows he had more than plenty of opportunities to do so. Whoever his boss was must have some plan where keeping me alive was key.

Rumlow released his grip on me, and I crumpled to the floor, my hands instinctively wrapped around my neck protectively as I coughed. Through the haze, I saw Rumlow motion to his men. One of them nodded, stepping out of the room for just a moment. There was some commotion in the hallway, and I heard several rustling footsteps come towards the room. Four people entered, three HYDRA agents carrying a motionless body. I didn't know whether to cry out or sob. All I was able to manage was a faint whisper of his name.

"Bucky."

Bucky stirred slightly, which made my shoulders relax slightly with relief. He was still breathing, though shallowly. The agents dropped him roughly, his body hitting the cold floor with a hard slam. Rumlow glared at him, turning his eyes back to me.

"You know what do to," he said. He turned swiftly, the rest of his men following him out of the room. The door slammed shut harshly, followed by the sound of the thick lock bolting into place. There would be no way to break through that door now.

None of that was a priority right now. I moved over to Bucky, wary of if he would lash out at me. I had no idea what they had done to his mind, but what they had done to his body was clear. He was covered in bruised and bloody. His skin had been cut in long, even strides, with thick pink welts surrounding each. The culprit was either a whip or a rod if I had to guess. Small, circular rings had been burned into his skin with cigarettes. Some of his fingernails had been removed. Bruises indicated they had also gone at him with their fists.

"Bucky," I said slowly. He began to move, attempting to push himself up onto his knees. I fought the urge to help him, fearing what would happen if he didn't remember me. He slowly raised his eyes to mine.

"Ella," he said, and that was the only confirmation I needed. I scurried over to him, brushing his matted hair out of his face.

"Oh my God, Bucky," I said. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, what happened to you? What did they do to you? How can you still remember me?" I helped him up slowly, and he groaned in response.

"They didn't wipe my memory," Bucky said. We moved slowly to the bed, Bucky leaning on me for support. Once I had him safely sitting on the bed, I moved quickly around the room collecting the supplies I needed. I knelt in front of him and began to work, carefully wrapping gauze around his injured fingers.

"I don't understand," I said. "I was sure that you would come back to me with your memory wiped. I didn't think you would remember my name."

Bucky raised his eyes to mine. "They're planning something," he said. "I overheard some of them. They said they're close to abducting someone else, someone important. They said they will have them in a few days, maybe a week."

"Did they say who it is?"

"No," Bucky said. "All I know is that it's a man. They said that if it goes as planned, he will change the face of HYDRA."

I shuddered. That was why they had kept Bucky and me alive. They couldn't be bothered to deal with us at the moment. They had a bigger fish to fry.

Bucky fell quiet after that. I moved around him swiftly, patching up each welt, slash, and bruise the best I knew how. Occasionally, he would wince, and I would apologize fervently. Bucky always stayed silent. After what felt like hours, Bucky was patched up to the best of my ability. The bruises would take days if not weeks to heal, but every wound was cleaned and stitched, every welt dressed. I began to pack away the equipment when Bucky attempted to stand from the bed.

"Bucky, no," I said. "Please, you need to rest."

"Ella," Bucky said softly. "I don't know how much time we have left."

The words hung in the air. They were honest words, but they made me feel cold. "I know," I said quietly. Bucky's fingers wrapped around my wrist gently.

"If they succeed with whatever plan they have, I don't know what will happen to us. I don't know if I can protect us," he said, his voice quivering at the last words.

"Shh," I said. "We'll figure it out."

"We might not," Bucky said, his eyes flickering to mine. "And if we don't… I… I need to do this."

His hand lifted mine to rest on his chest, directly over his heart. It had a soft, steady, strong beat. The heart of a fighter. His metal hand came slowly to my face, brushing the hair back from my neck. His eyes softened when he saw the bruises that were forming due to Rumlow. I thought I heard him murmur a faint "I'm sorry" but I couldn't be sure. His metal hand cradled my cheek; his touch was cold, yet comforting. His other arm reached around my waist gently, pulling me closer. With that, he lowered his lips to mine.

Kissing Bucky felt like a warm fire in a frigid blizzard. It was soft and warm, gentle and comforting. I kissed him back, even pressing onto my tiptoes to kiss him more deeply.

Our kiss broke too soon. Bucky rested his forehead against mine, breathing a deep sigh. No words were spoken, but our feelings were clear at that moment. He needed me as I needed him for strength, for stability, for hope. We would make it out together, or HYDRA would end us together.

"Ella…" Bucky started. I pressed my lips to his in a quick kiss.

"We can talk in the morning," I said. "I think we both need to rest."

Because God only knows what will happen in the morning.

Bucky nodded, moving into the bed. I made sure his movements were slow as to not pull and stitches or mess any dressings. I curled beside him, and his metal arm wrapped instinctively around me. I rested my arm over his chest, curling further into him. I felt Bucky kiss my forehead lightly as I drifted off to sleep, knowing that no matter what happened in the days to come, at least I had Bucky.